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"Protecting my wife; it's my job now."

Diego started to say something else, but Gunnar cut him off.

"You should know that I have very bad impulse control." Gunnar interrupted. His big body did that thing again, where he blocked out the light, casting all around him in pure shadow. "That will be your only warning."

As Gunnar stepped into Diego's space, a brilliant flash of amber light sliced right through the dark tint of my sunglasses. His wolf was right at the surface. His eyes were glowing so brightly, so fiercely with raw dominance, that even my broken human eyes could see the fiery golden glare burning in the gloom.

My own inner wolf—the bitch who had been pacing restlessly since he sat down next to me in my hotel room four hours ago now—sat up, her ears pricking forward. She let out a low, appreciative purr, practically drooling at the display of raw, heavy-handed territorial aggression.

Traitress, I snapped at her internally. But even as I scolded my beast, I couldn't stop my pulse from hammering wildly against my ribs.

I'm not sure if it was Diego's notion of being in love with me or his male pride that made him hesitate. The sheer, suffocating Alpha aura rolling off Gunnar was an absolute wall. Diego was a strong guard, but Gunnar Blackwood was the executioner.

"My apologies, Ms. Lobo."

"Mrs. Blackwood," Gunnar corrected.

Diego swallowed an audible lump in his throat. He didn't correct himself out loud. He bowed his head in forced deference before backing away and disappearing rapidly into the reception crowd.

Silence settled in the corner by the pillar, heavy and thick with the scent of peppermint and copper.

"You alright?" Gunnar asked. The lethal, throat-crushing edge in his voice vanished, replaced by that strange, careful gentleness he’d used at the altar—like he was speaking to a wounded bird he was afraid of scaring.

I swallowed the residual heat pulsing between my legs, forcing my posture back into that of a cold, arrogant, spoiled princess. I rolled my shoulders and let out a soft, dismissive sigh.

"I was fine before you came over here flexing your biceps." I let my voice drip with condescending ice. "He's just a guard doing his job."

Gunnar stepped closer, his heavy shadow falling over me completely, blocking out the cathedral light.

"He was standing in your space. You have to know that's disrespectful now that you're my wife."

"So what? No other woman can stand near you now?"

"No," Gunnar said simply. "Not if she wants to fuck me."

Sure, we'll see how long that lasts. Wolves had voracious sexual appetites. And Gunnar Blackwood had a storied reputation. All the Blackwood men did. They didn't flaunt their affairs, but it was widely known that they had them. After Gunnar bedded me, I wondered how long it would take him to get restless and be sniffing up another she-wolf's tail.

"You're standing in my space," I said. "Does that mean you want to fuck me?"

That peppermint spice smelled as if it had been lit on fire. "Don't be afraid, Rosalind. I won't hurt you."

It was the first time he'd used my name to address me. His voice was soft and soothing when he said it. But I was too smart to believe him.

Let him think he owns me. Let the brute mark his territory. It only makes it easier for me to put the collar around his neck.

"Everyone, if I could have your attention." My mother's voice came from near the center of the floor. "Now that the blood vows have been spoken, and the alliance is sealed, it is time to celebrate. Please join me in raising a toast to the newlyweds, followed by their first dance."

A toast? A first dance? My mother was still trying to direct a fairytale stage play for those gathered. As always, I was cast as the helpless princess. I didn't want to drink and be merry. I didn't want to be married. I definitely didn't want to waltz the night away. I wanted out. I wanted to get away from her suffocating presence, away from the dozens of staring eyes weighing every move I made. I wanted to move in secret and get closer to my escape.

I turned to my new husband. "Do you want us to dance on the dance floor or in the bed?"

The clinking of crystal glasses ceased instantly. I hadn't bothered to lower my voice, so every wolf in the vicinity heard me. A collective, uncomfortable tension dropped over the sanctuary like a heavy velvet curtain. Beside me, I felt the surprised shift in Gunnar’s posture. I kept my posture relaxed, my chin tilted up, looking every bit the unbothered, spoiled brat.

"I like to get straight to the point," I said. "I thought the whole point of rushing this marriage through in three hours was for us to secure the alliance and then make babies. We can't very well do that on the dance floor, can we?"

A few choked coughs echoed from the Blackwood side of the room. I heard my mother's claws twitch, her wolf near the surface of her skin, desperate to put me back in my place for publicly humiliating her curated image.

Before Sorsha could open her mouth to deliver a razor-sharp reprimand, another voice intervened.